


To Be Small Again

by cathymee



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Gen, I Tried, Light Angst, Post-Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-01-03 16:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21182543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathymee/pseuds/cathymee
Summary: On the morning of April 5th, Meriadoc Brandybuck visited the tent where the Ringbearers were placed, only to be greeted by an unexpected sight.





	1. The Visit

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters and places mentioned in this fanfiction were made by Tolkien himself, and were merely borrowed for the sole purpose of entertainment. Y'all might not know what my real name is, but I can assure you that my surname isn't Tolkien. I only own the craziness.
> 
> My timeline is wack, btw. :/
> 
> So, this story started in April 5th, when in the books Sam awoke at April 8th. Obviously Arwen and Elrond were still in Rivendell, but scratch that idea, amirite?
> 
> Enjoy! :)

_ **April 5th, 3019 S.R. 1419** _

He had felt suffocated for quite a long time, waiting for them to wake up.

Merry felt like he'd already passed thousands of tents, containing different soldiers, wounded or whole, before he finally skidded to a stop in front of one, where Aragorn, Gimli, Gandalf, and Legolas had placed the two of them — his cousin and his loyal servant. They were still in Ithilien, and it had only been days after the War had been won, and Sauron had fallen.

The air was clean, the sun brighter than it usually was, yet Merry could barely see through his nervousness, could barely breathe through his uncertainty. _What if..._

'_No. Stop yourself, Meriadoc. They are alive, they would open their eyes and you would see them again._' he chastised himself, though his doubts lingered. Merry clenched his hands to fists, stopping them from trembling. He blinked furiously— he would not enter just for his cousin to see him teary-eyed like a small lad. Sighing, he slumped his shoulders and bowed his head, though his lips formed a watery smile, excitement and anxiety both mixing in. Merry felt like the ground beneath him would suck him in if he stayed there for a bit longer. Inhaling the fresh air, Merry moved the white cloth aside and stepped in.

He would've wept and laughed at the same time as he took in the sight of Samwise Gamgee, though thinner he was, sitting there, fresh from sleep, with—

...a toddler?

Could it be possible that Frodo had been moved out to another tent? That perhaps his cousin is already dead? That maybe they weren't able to save him? Or they had, but Frodo had let go, and...

But no. That couldn't be possible. They would've said it, if it was the case. Would've announced to the people that their Saviour saved them all, in exchange of his own short life...

But then what? Who was this toddler, who slept comfortably in the lap of his friend? Though, if Merry has to admit, he was quite_...endearing..._familiar...as if he already knew...

_No._

_No, nononono—_

_A...his cousin? That can't be...that's truly impossible!_

Merry's eyes grew wide with panic and confusion. Sam had looked up at him when he arrived, and Merry could see the same emotions swirling in his hazel orbs as though he was reflecting the same gamut of emotions Merry's eyes cannot keep hidden. His cousin...

A toddler.

Frodo was asleep, curled up on Sam's lap, as peaceful as a newborn babe. The cut on his cheek still looks fresh, his right hand, once bandaged, now fully exposed. Merry felt dread close down on him as his eyes landed on the gap where his cousin's ring finger once was. He forced his eyes to move somewhere else. The burn marks around his neck were still visible. The shirt they fitted on him on their arrival looked as though it was already a long-sleeved gown.

"Sam..."

"Mr. Merry," Sam whispered, nodding. His eyes were wide, but there was already a spark of adoration and protectiveness in them, directed to his (little) master, whose face scrunched up as if already being disturbed by unwanted noise— which made Merry clasp his hands on his mouth, not wanting to disturb Frodo further. The babe yawned and hiccuped, and, again, stilled, clutching Sam's shirt loosely as he slumbered.

"Mr. Meriadoc, sir?"

Merry whipped around to see a young lad behind him, his green eyes wide in awe, looking at the Esquire like he was the King himself. The lad seemed to be shaking, even. The weather was fair, a little hotter yet bearable. _The poor boy must've been nervous to see one of us Halflings_, thought Merry. "Y-yes?" stuttered he.

"Th-the King requested for me to accompany you... if you need some help." The lad said the last part sincerely. Merry stood there for a few seconds, his gaze returning to his cousin then back at the green-eyed lad, before he cleared his throat and took the young lad's hands in his, squeezing it to anchor himself. "I...I need you to call the King for me— and the wizard— G-Gandalf, if you may, please—"

The lad sprinted to a nearby tent even before Merry finished. He turned back to his friend and the babe in his lap, still light-headed in disbelief. "What happened?" he asked to no one in particular, though Sam cleared his throat. "I was awake yestereve, you see, and... a healer... she gave 'im a tonic to ease some of his pain and all that, Mr. Merry, but... I awoke and... here." He gathered Frodo in his arms and rocked him back and forth as he spoke, for he started to blink as though he would once again wake up. Sam's eyes softened at the sight. Merry felt his heart clench.

Figures appeared seconds later— the young lad, Aragorn, Gandalf, Arwen, and Elrond. Merry assumed that Gimli was still on Pippin's side, tending to him. Legolas had been ordered to aid the healers to help the soldiers with minor injuries.

"What is—" Merry and Sam both shushed the King's booming voice. Little Frodo started to bawl, his right hand clumsily rubbing his left shoulder. Aragorn's eyes went round as saucers, and Arwen only blinked, confused. Elrond advanced to the bed whilst Gandalf glanced at the King. The Lord of Imladris swiftly sat beside them and uncovered Frodo's left shoulder. Sensing his gentle touch, Frodo's wails quieted into sniffs and hiccups, and chose to cling to Elrond's robes instead. Sam held his breath, and Merry was still.

"What happened?" Aragorn asked, now in a whisper. He and Arwen sat beside Merry, staring at the babe. Gandalf sat on the foot of the bed. Merry began talking softly, still looking at the bundle on Elrond's arms.

"Sam said that a healer gave him a tonic last night," he turned to Sam. "Do you know who that was?"

Sam casted his eyes downward, deep in thought, then finally said, "I don't know, Mr. Merry. But she did mention that I could call her _Manwa_."

The lad, who stood away from them (perhaps to give them some privacy, for it surely wasn't his business), gasped. All of them turned to him. He flushed. "I'm sorry, sirs and madame, but that name was familiar. I think it's my sister, _Kaylin_. I don't know anything about Elves and their Elf language," he glanced at the Queen and his father, flushing, "but she'd said that her Elvish name was _Manwathiel_, me—"

"Meaning 'pure'."

Seven heads turned to where the voice belong, directing their gazed back to Elrond's arms. Frodo's hands, bony and pale, found their way back to Sam's shirt. His sparkling eyes turned to Sam, and without even saying a word, he sat up and snuggled back to his lap. Arwen's gaze softened and the corner of her lips twitched, a grin threatening to show up. Aragorn's tense shoulders relaxed.

"Mr. Frodo?" called Sam softly. Frodo hummed in acknowledgement, tightening his grip. "Hullo, Sam," he said, smiling.

The bed shifted as Gandalf sat closer to them. "My dear boy," he whispered, pushing the hair away from the Ring-bearer's forehead. "Gandalf?" Frodo's relaxed features tensed. Sitting up, he frantically whipped his head and looked at everyone, his bottom lip trembling, his wide eyes filling with tears. "A-are we dead, then? _Frodo_ had failed?" his little voice was trembling as well, his chest heaving as he hauled deep breaths, trying to calm down. Though he found it strange that Frodo had referred to himself with his name, Gandalf pulled him closer, and did not ponder about it, and only smiled. "Dear boy, of course not. A great Shadow has departed, all thanks to your courage and will. Alas! your courage and will need not to be used now, for you are now safe, safe and alive and cared for. You are in the land of Ithilien, and in the keeping of the King," to this he glanced to Aragorn, who watched the distressed hobbit with fondness, "and your beloved Shire awaits you." And to this he looked upon Sam and Merry, who looked back, smiling.

Frodo sunk back on Gandalf's arms, sighing in relief. "Forgive me, Gandalf," he whispered wearily. The wizard's smile was tinged with sadness. "Rest, _Iorhael_. We shall resolve this soon." Sam stole him from the wizard's embrace and watched as Frodo's lips dropped, his sleepiness taking over.

"Well, this is..._strange_." Merry said, breaking the silence. Sam held his dear master closer.

"What are we going to do, then?" asked Arwen.

Elrond turned to the young lad. "Would you care to call your sister for us? We need to have a talk."

"K-Kaylin, sir?"

Elrond nodded.

"And care to tell us your name as well?" Gandalf asked kindly.

"Oh," his cheeks flushed again, "how rude of me. I'm called Lanad, son of Filmad, sir."

"Well, then, Lanad. Go on."

As the young boy scurried off, Aragorn stood up. "Is it possible that it's because of the tonic?" he asked. Elrond drew his brows together. "It is, if the tonic was made to do this to him. But I do not think it was intentional— Samwise had said that it is to relieve some of his pain."

"Aye, sir, it really was. _Manwa_ also made me have it, she did." said Sam.

"Then what if it wasn't because of the tonic?" asked Arwen. Elrond glanced at Gandalf, and the wizard shook his head. The silence wrapped the tent once again.

"Well, I do not think sitting here and staring at him would solve everything." Gandalf said, and stood up. His bones popped and he groaned, clutching his hips as he leaned on his staff. He looked again at the sleeping Frodo, a smile touching his face.

"I did not expect to ever be saying this, but I think, before celebrations and coronations—"

"—and weddings—"

Aragorn and Arwen glanced at Merry, who snickered.

"And weddings," Gandalf agreed. Looking down at his friend, he proclaimed:

"We have to babysit."


	2. The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaylin and his brother arrives, whilst Legolas muses.

_ **April 5th, 3019 S.R. 1419** _

"...So."

Aragorn sighed. "So what, Master Brandybuck?"

"What are we gonna do?" the Esquire asked. "I mean, he can't just stay like that forever."

"Obviously," Aragorn muttered. He sighed and gave Frodo back to Sam. The Ringbearer squeaked as the King released him, and clung (he'd been doing that a lot, Sam thought fondly) to his Sam, burying his face on Sam's neck and wrapping his thin arms under Sam's armpits. Arwen had left to find Lanad and his sister— they'd been gone for half an hour and still hasn't returned. Elrond was having a quiet conversation with Gandalf. Merry paced, sat, and stood up to pace again. Aragorn's too busy thinking, glancing at the (adorable) pair in the bed. Sam was now singing softly to Frodo, who sat still on his lap and was counting Sam's finger repeatedly, then looking at his own hands and counting them. His brows were furrowed as though he was upset, and Aragorn winced. He sat next to them and looked at the ground instead.

Another five minutes passed, and Frodo stopped counting, hugging Sam again as he whimpered. The gardener stopped singing. "Are you alright, Frodo?" he whispered in the lad's ears. Merry convinced him to drop the "Mr." earlier, saying that it seemed awkward and ridiculous— Aragorn has to admit, it really was. Frodo shook his head, burying his head again on Sam's neck, hugging him tighter.

"What's the matter, cousin?" Merry walked closer and held Frodo's hand, smiling gently. Frodo shook his head again. Aragorn lied on his back and held the left one. It was so small that Aragorn felt like he's holding a kitten's paw instead of the hobbit he'd grown to adore and admire for months.

Suddenly a gust of wind from outside entered the tent, and there stood Legolas. Aragorn welcomed him in, and he said a brief greeting. The elf looked at Sam with a grin. "My heart soared once I had heard the news of your successful recovery, little one. I am glad." He looked at everyone, and his brow raised. "But...where's Frodo?" Nobody spoke. Legolas' smile slipped. "Oh." he muttered. He stared at the ground for a minute, and raised his eyes to look at Sam. "I'm so sorry for your loss, tithen min—" Before he could finish, a slight movement made him stop. Legolas finally took notice of the bundle in Sam's lap. He turned to Aragorn. "Is...he...Elassar...?"

Sam pried the babe off of him gently and faced him to the elf.

Legolas' eyes widened for a second, but a wash of recognition and wonder warmed the blue orbs. He swiftly kneeled to the bed and took Frodo's hands on his own, squeezing them to ease the lad's nervousness. "_Anann le, mellon-nin_." he murmured, his eyes twinkling. Frodo stared at him with wide, confused eyes, as if digging deep to his memory for his name. He bit his lower lip, brows furrowed. "_Ale_, Leg'las," he whispered, cheeks burning. The Elf, however, grinned, not in amusement, but with pride.

"_Manan le_, Frodo?" he asked. He watched the hobbit's cheeks flush even more. "_Im...meren_." he said softly, finally. Legolas looked up at Sam, and with a nod the other hobbit placed Frodo on his lap. The Ringbearer seemed hesitant at first, but scooted closer to Legolas after a few seconds, shuddering as the fresh and cool wind outside entered the tent. "_Ae_, _goheno nin, gornon_. You must be cold." One glance at Sam confirmed his guess, and the hobbit wrapped his friend with a thick blanket. Frodo looked at him with a smile. "_Hannon le, Adar._"

Everyone, except for Merry and Sam, froze.

The two hobbits looked at them in confusion. "What did he say?" asked Merry.

Frodo's eyes were already half-lidded when the silence wrapped the tent earlier, but as Merry spoke, his eyes snapped up to Legolas' chin. He started playing with his blonde hair, twisting it gently and curling it on his fingers. The elf rocked him gently.

"He called you his father, Sam."

Sam gasped. "He's probably just teasin', Strider, sir. Don't tell me he'd lost his memory, too!" he whispered, dismayed.

Gandalf sat next to the archer. Frodo's attention was now on him. "Frodo, do you know who I am?"

"_Iaron_." Frodo said with finality.

Gandalf felt the corners of his mouth twitch amidst the worry that sat heavily on his chest. "Perhaps I am ancient, Frodo. But do you know my name?"

Frodo shook his head.

"I am Gandalf, your friend."

Frodo curled in on Legolas, looking at Gandalf as if he was Sauron himself. "I don't know you, but Big Frodo does. Please get him out soon."

All of them exchanged confused glances.

"If...Big Frodo's there...does he know what's happening?"

The boy nodded.

"Can you tell us?" Aragorn urged.

Frodo bit his lower lip and chewed.

"He...he knows. He always does. He said that...that Ring, whatever that was, It promised him, before It was destroyed, that he...he'll '_not know himself again'_. I was there, you know. I've heard it, too. The voice was really...scary, Gandalf." He shuddered. "It said that his life would be miserable. It was really, really mean." He scrunched up his face in fury. "Big Frodo didn't deserve being called a '_thief_', either, but that mean-y Ring said he was. But he wasn't!"

"I know, dear boy," Gandalf murmured.

"And then Big Frodo said that he wants to stay. He said he felt safe inside, and then...and then there's no pain in there. You won't make him stay here, would you, Gandalf?"

"Well, no, but..." he trailed off, looking at Elrond, who merely nodded. "Well, maybe...perhaps for days. We have no idea how to...heal this yet."

Frodo frowned, his eyes downcast. Just then, when Gandalf thought the boy was upset with his decision, his face turned cheery. "Big Frodo said it's okay!"

"Then it's settled. 'Big Frodo' would have to stay inside for days, until we could find a way to bring him back." said Aragorn, smiling.

* * *

"You enter!"

"No, _you_ enter!"

"_You_ were the one being expected to show up first!"

"Well, _you're_ the one who started all of this!"

"Little ones," Arwen called soothingly, a gentle smile on her face. The wind caressed her dark hair, and her slender hands came to rest on each of their shoulders. "If you are anxious with how the King or his companions would treat you, then there is no need. They are concerned for the Ring-Bearer, and would dearly need your cooperation to solve the current problem."

"But m-my Queen—!"

Arwen gave them a little shove— a gentle one, at that— and their figures appeared to the startled folks (minus Frodo, who was too busy playing with Legolas' hair to even notice their entrance.)

"About time," Merry murmured.

Aragorn beckoned them to come forth. Kaylin walked forward first, then, sensing that his stubborn little brother wasn't walking with her, turned around and held his hand, yanking him forward. When Arwen gave a silent snort of amusement did she realize that everyone's eyes were still on them, and her cheeks reddened. She bowed to the King when they were finally in front of him. Aragorn merely nodded and signaled for her to stand up.

"You were the healer that tended to the Ring-Bearer yestereve, am I correct?" the King asked. Kaylin nodded with a smile.

"Yes, my Lord." she said.

"And thus you must've been the one who must've caused the ruckus."

"Now, now, Aragorn," said Gandalf. "Let's enlighten the young lady before jumping to conclusions."

The King sighed. "Forgive me, Lady Kaylin. My mind is clouded with worry."

Cheeks flushed and brows raised in confusion, the girl merely bowed her head. "There is nothing to forgive, my Lord."

The blonde hair of the archer were still smooth and silky when Frodo had decided to let go and give it a rest. He dropped his head on Legolas' shoulders, his whole body going limp in the elf's arms. The Elf's blue eyes met his, and he grinned, his small hands stretching up to grasp at his chin. Though Legolas was trying to focus on the conversation before him, the sight of the young Ring-bearer, happy and carefree, captured his attention and interest. Surely there was a chance that when the older Frodo came back, he could be the as carefree as this child?

'..._he'll not know himself again_...'

The Prince sighed and held the boy closer.

Sam is matured and laid-back, resourceful and level-headed and as stubborn as his Master. He was a gardener, fond of plants and flowers and treasuring their existence. He was the first Hobbit that he had befriended. Next was Pippin. The little one was carefree, his optimism shining through even in the darkest days of their journey. He had been younger than anyone, yet he is strong. Then Meriadoc. Perhaps younger than Samwise (because he had no idea of their age, if truth be told), yet also stubborn and determined. He was protective of his younger cousin, never letting him out of his sight, keeping him stable and grounded.

Then there was Frodo. Legolas had never seen a Light that shone so brightly. He had been convinced that Frodo wasn't wholly a Hobbit, and if it wasn't for Mithrandir and his reassurances, Legolas would've been sure that Frodo was half-Elven.

Something akin to pride settled on the Prince's chest, smiling down on the child on his arms. "_Suil Annui, erio thûl lín i faer hen_."


	3. Pippin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippin arrives.

Kaylin had bowed _over_ and _over_ again, apologizing _over_ and _over_ again, her eyes filling with tears _over_ and _over_ again, that Aragorn had kneeled before her with concern and offered her his water bottle. Arwen lead her out with her brother after the young healer bowed again before the King. _Again_.

She had said that she used one of Elrond's tonics and gave him the right dose, helping the limp body up and propping him with soft pillows and sliding in some water down and massaging his neck to make sure the clear liquid caress his dry throat. Sam had only been half-awake, watching her as if she would pull out a knife out of nowhere and stab his Master.

_"If ye don't...mind me askin', m'lady, but...who are you?"_

_"I am a healer, Master Samwise," (the hobbit looked surprised and embarrassed when he heard the title given to him, as if he was not used to it) "you can call me Manwathiel, for that is my name in Elvish. Your kin, Lord Meriadoc, told me how you were terribly fond of Elves."_

Then she bathed his pale skin when Sam finally went to sleep, after she reassured him that his Master would be fine.

_"Master Frodo is safe, Master Samwise. Return to your slumber. He would be safe."_

(And Kaylin could hear her own voice in her head, as if mocking her for her stupidity for letting this happen.)

"I do not find you as someone who could do this, Lady Kaylin," Aragorn had reassured her, patting her in the shoulder. "I do not find you at fault for what had happened." He bowed , thank you for easing him and giving him comfort when we could not."

* * *

Pippin entered the tent, too busy looking for his cousin to acknowledge the pain in his chest, his arms, his legs, _everywhere_. Merry would berate him later, and Aragorn would force him to stay in bed (and perhaps tie him to it as well) but he doesn't care. His mind is full of "_Frodo, Frodo, Frodo_". His eyes are desperate to glance at anything _Frodo_, dark hair, blue eyes, skeletal hands, everything.

Sure enough, Merry was there, looking mortified (and a spark of "I knew this would happen" light in his eyes.)

"What are you doing?" asked Merry, exasperated.

"_Frodo_."

"Sit down, you silly Took. Our cousin is fine."

"Where is he?"

"Sit. Down."

Pippin did, looking more like someone who fell backwards than someone who actually sat down. Merry almost snorted.

"Where is he, Merry?" Pippin asked, desperation (and a trace of excitement) on his voice.

"He's resting, Pip. Unlike you," the Esquire replied.

"Where?"

"You sound like Aunt Eglantine, Pip, with how you're repeating words like that."

"I'm asking _properly_, Meriadoc!"

"Beggin' yer pardons, sirs, but ye both might want to quiet'n down a bit? Frodo's still sleepin'. He'll awake if he hears ye squackin', an' no mistake."

Hearing this, Pippin stood up immediately, and strode, again disregarding the ache all over him, determined to follow Sam's voice. Merry stood up slowly and followed Pippin, shaking his head with an annoyed (and fond) smirk. He steadied his cousin quietly, feeling a pang of guilt for not helping his cousin, who's now shaking and stumbling, but still stubbornly walked, whilst Sam began to sing softly, no doubt trying to get Frodo back to sleep. They had been quite louder than necessary. It made Merry happy, knowing that his Pip is still like that– loud and raucous, even though it's because of worry this time. Clutching his shoulders firmly, Merry guided him wordlessly towards Sam and Frodo was.

* * *

"Mama."

Sam, startled by the voice, sat up straight, looking at his young master. "What is it, Frodo?"

"Mama."

The child looked at him with his sparkling eyes, that Sam almost panicked. The gardener dropped to his knees in front of the little one, rubbing his back repeatedly. '_What do I do, what do I do_,' echoed in his mind.

"Well, M–Frodo...see, it's your Sam, and your Mama...well– sh-she—"

"She's there!"


	4. Lady of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lady of Lórien arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why but I just felt like it's necessary to add Éowyn and Faramir here, I'll give them some part next chapter lol

"You shall not ride alone. I know how the pain still bothers you, but you, stubborn one, is determined to hide it from me, that you didn't even discern how I've knew, from the first day that we've been together."

The man sighed. "I am quite alright. _You_, however—"

"Do not turn this around, Lord Faramir."

_Lady Éowyn is rather formidable when she's choleric_, was the first thought that crossed his mind while his lips formed a small smile that the fair shield-maiden only dismissed. The flush in her cheeks were still present, and it was the only indication that she was just trying to be stern, but she was not really enraged with him.

"Come along. The King expects us to be there." said Éowyn, helping him up. "The men had prepared all of the supplies needed. There's no need to worry more– by the way he wrote, it seems like the Ring-bearer, Holdwine's kin, is someone we should worry about."

————

"Pardon, milady," Sam bowed.

But the lady only bestowed a smile upon him, a smile full of kindness and patience, like the first time he'd seen her, when Legolas talked of how one of their companions fell down in the abyss of Moria. Her gaze had been heavy that time. He could even see his reflection on her blue eyes, so deep that he thought he would drown in it. But when it moved to Mr. Frodo...

He remembered the spark of anger that he felt when her eyes dimmed, when Frodo bowed his head and closed his eyes to shield the tears that everyone did not see, except for him and the Lady. Galadriel's face was kind and fair, that Sam felt safe. But it turned stoic towards Frodo, just like the Elf that Strider had argued with. And even though she had seen the tears of grief and pressure, the face did not soften, and the eyes are still dim, and Sam wanted to cry with how unfair it was, that his Master was always the one blamed just because of the chain around his neck and the thing that hang from it.

Yet now she stood there and she looked at Frodo with only kindness, and Sam felt happy and content.

"Oh! How rude o' me– please, enter."

Galadriel did, her footsteps quiet, her long, white dress that touched the ground making her look as if she's floating. Frodo was still as his huge eyes followed her movements, and squirmed in Sam's arms. She knelt in front of them, reaching out her hand to still Frodo's behavior. "Peace, child," she muttered, and the dark-haired hobbit stopped, and leapt to her arms instead.

"Mr. Frodo!" said an astonished Sam, only to be silenced by a fair hand, free of callouses or dirt, held up in front of him. The Lady's smile widened, and only said, "Do not fret, Master Samwise." to which the gardener only nodded, but his eyes lingered on his Master.

His small hands clutched her white robes, his head resting against her shoulders, his feet (cleansed by Aragorn, though still covered with burn marks and wounds that was still not healed) planted on her lap. She swept him on her arms– now he was seated on her lap, his hands gripping hers as she tried to hold him more comfortably.

"Mama," Frodo mumbled, and Sam observed how her smile became tinted with melancholia and sorrow.

––

Hours passed and Frodo was asleep on Galadriel's arms, and Sam's unease passed.

Aragorn passed by to greet them and to check on Frodo (and even coo at him a little, like he was his son. Sam laughed at his little silly act and Galadriel even grinned.) Gandalf conversed with both of them, and Elrond even gave them a visit just to tease her with something Sam did not understand (of course, he's not naïve or anything. The word was just Elvish.) Throughout all of it, Frodo slept. His brow would crease or he would make a distressed noise, but instead of fully waking up, he would continue to sleep, whilst Galadriel would brush his hair with her fingers, whispering to him. Sam heard her talking about the Sea– about ships and sunsets and the wind, of peace and healing and happiness. Sam wept, though why? He did not know.

––

Everything was quiet. Frodo was asleep. Galadriel had left to talk to her granddaughter. The soldiers were not celebrating because their King was not. Gandalf and Elrond was nowhere to be seen. Merry now stood guard in the entrance. Legolas, Sam learned, was sent to the Houses of Healing in Gondor to retrieve some supplies.

And the sudden voices that Sam heard made him feel a bit disturbed.

They were familiar, of course, and Sam realized how it was just like when they were in the Shire— he would sit with Mr. Frodo, eating breakfast or sipping some tea, and Mr. Merry and Pippin would be bickering about whatever that was they were always bickering about, and Mr. Frodo would only grin, or shake his head, or scold Pippin for using a foul word at such a young age (often followed by a "don't blame me, blame Bilbo!") But now Mr. Frodo lay, and Sam doesn't even know if he was aware of everything. Of how Sam felt worried and scared of the knowledge that he, Mr. Frodo, the one who he always followed around and obeyed, is now only a child– innocent yet still suffering.

Now what would Frodo do if his cousins argue like this, Sam?

"Beggin' yer pardons, sirs, but ye both might want to quiet'n down a bit? Frodo's still sleepin'. He'll awake if he hears ye squackin', an' no mistake."

The voices stopped, and Sam heard someone's footsteps— rushed but...weak?

Nevertheless, he felt satisfied with himself.

––

The visit hadn't been brief, like what Sam expected. Pippin still sat there, staring at his elder cousin, with his mouth closing and opening, unable to find the right word to say or the question to ask. Merry teased him still, and Sam found himself laughing along. The child was no longer in his arms— he moved quickly to Pippin's, greeting him with a little excited "_Pip_!". Sam felt relieved.

Merry ruffled his cousin's dark hair and made funny faces, only to be smacked lightly.

"Big Frodo says you're acting silly."

"Wel— wha— that's the point, cousin!"

The child giggled.

It ended when Gandalf came, scolding Pippin and calling him with his "favorite nickname" (as dubbed by Merry), "Fool of a Took". A healer was sent to retrieve him, and Merry followed them, after kissing his cousin's brow and hugging him tight. "I love you, cousin," he said, stroking his little cheek, then Gandalf threatened to drag him out (only as a jest, but Merry still scrambled away as quickly as he could.)

"What do we do now, Gandalf?"

The Wizard only sighed. "I do not know, Samwise. Neither do them, Aragorn and Elrond, or even the Lady Arwen. But do not worry," says he, "everything changed has a way of returning back by itself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xkxkxkxksksoskkd why is frodo so adorable idk what i'm doing
> 
> also, Gandalf is kinda foreshadowing cuz he's too excited to end this lol.


	5. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas talks about the Sea.

_ **April 7th, 3019 S.R. 1419** _

"Blankets, bottles, elixirs, pillows, and some child-sized clothes— oh, and we felt that it was quite necessary for us to bring extra food, since we are a bit too early. Do not worry, men would come with more supplies, maybe at night or tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Lady Éowyn," said the King. "Master Meriadoc had been too enthusiastic when he'd heard that you'd come today, and would very much like to see you again. Your tent is next to the Ring-bearers', Faramir now lie there. I would tend to him later."

Éowyn bit her lip, her eyes catching a glimpse of the tent Aragorn nodded to.

"Merry is there, then, I assume?" she whispered. Aragorn only nodded, excused himself with a brief bow, and left to arrange the supplies. Reluctance took hold of her heart, and instead of entering the Ring-bearers' tent— Frodo and Sam, if she remembered just right— she shook her head lightly and walked towards the tent she shared with Faramir.

* * *

"Do you think the Evenstar might help? Do you think he'd feel more at ease if he has it on?"

Galadriel looked down to where healers bustled and soldiers roam, her granddaughter doing the same as both of them stood tall up to a small cliff, breathing the fresh air and hearing the song of birds and feeling the grass beneath them dance. The trees, far away from where they are, danced with the wind, their leaves rustling. Arwen glanced at her, her blue eyes catching the light of the Sun, her fair skin gleaming. The Evenstar rest upon her chest, her blue gown touched the ground, her white robe draped upon her just like her grandmother's. Galadriel did not look at her as she saw Legolas carrying the small Ring-bearer, roaming around Ithilien, rocking the babe and speaking to him with his light voice that the soft wind carried away. The servant stood near, walking with them and joining in the conversation that the archer had started. The blue-eyed youngling giggled and answered. She felt her heart lighten. Her mind responded.

_"Darkness gripped Frodo's heart throughout their whole journey. The Ring had wrapped Itself in his faë, and had tore the hole in his heart. Frodo suffers day by day, and that is why I had hid him in this new form."_

Arwen turned her head quickly, her eyes wide. "_You_ had done it?"

Galadriel nodded. "I can feel it still, through Nenya. The Ring recognizes It's failure. It lashes out with malice and scorn as much as it can towards the Ring-bearer. It is the only way to protect him. I would not let them take another."

_Oh, my Celebrian. My child. Your mother would sail away soon. Wait for me._

A tear slipped, and Arwen wrapped her arms around the Lady of Light.

* * *

"Now, Frodo, just you let your Sam take care of you."

"I'm not a child!"

Legolas snorted. "I beg your pardon, little one, but do you need me to remind you of your current condition?"

The blue-eyed lad pouted, ignoring the Prince of Mirkwood. "I can do this on my own, Sam!"

"But you can't." said Sam pointedly.

"What's so hard with changing clothes? Big Frodo said it's easy enough!"

"Well, Big Frodo is stubborn, you see. Of course he'll say it is, then you'll find yourself regretting your decision soon enough." said the archer.

"Fine," was the murmured defeat.

* * *

"Are you at ease?"

A nod, he could tell, from the way his head bobbed, the curls bouncing along. He found his own hair being played again by those quick, slender fingers, tying it into knots or twirling it around. They both were silent. There was nothing to say, as the Elf rest against the tree and the Hobbit rest against him, still and mute. The Elf was humming only seconds ago, but the wind's whispered tune seemed to be enough for the both of them, and so he chose to let his fingers play with the Hobbit's hair as well. Legolas was pleased to see a rosy color he had never seen in his cheeks before appear after he had woken up from his nap this afternoon. The periannath had reached out his arms and asked Legolas in an almost shy (but tinged with the familiar determination tone that he heard when Frodo was trying to stop his arguments with Gimli when it had gotten too far, or when Merry and Pippin did something foolish and even Gandalf seemed too tired to deal with the two of them) voice, "Could you please take me out to see the stars?"

It wasn't really night when he had asked, but Legolas still complied fondly, bidding Sam to get some sleep after running himself down today trying to take care of everything even though everyone was capable of it. They had seen a little mountain, not too tall, with trees surrounding the area, not too far away from their tent, but far enough to not hear the sounds of merriment and mirth coming from their camp. Nobody had known about the Ring-bearer's problem, so when men saw an Elf carrying a small child (that looked quite fair that some even thought it was an Elven child,) nobody had been bothered or thought of it as queer.

"I hear the Sea."

It was blurted out quite suddenly from the small form that he held. The Elf's fingers stopped.

"What is it, little one?"

"Do you hear it, too? The Sea?"

Legolas found himself smiling seconds later, and moved his fingers to the little one's hands, rubbing it in an attempt to warm them.

"Why, yes, tithen-min."

Frodo sighed. "I'm glad."

"Does it call to you?"

The hobbit seemed to ponder the question seriously, and said, "Maybe. I don't know. Big Frodo doesn't know, either. But we can hear it."

Legolas nodded. "The water...plant the image in your mind, little one. Círdan the Shipwright would come forth to greet us. I had never seen him myself, but my father used to tell stories about him— _he was very tall, and his beard was long, and he was grey and old, save that his eyes were keen as stars_, he would say. There would be a white ship floating there in the water, and the water would sparkle as the sun sets." The Elf sighed, "I wish for it to bear me away, someday, or soon. But Aragorn still needs me, and so does Gimli— my dearest friends. You, however...would you answer the call, and leave this world behind?"

"What is there to see? What is there to sail for, Leg'las?"

Longing filled both of their voices.

"Green land, with sparkling stars or clear skies, with clear water and blessed air. Peace. Peace is there, little one. Peace, and hope, and healing."

"_Peace_...it seems to be so out of reach, does it? Even now?"

Legolas' long fingers brushed Frodo's prominent cheekbones, trailing the line lightly, caressing it as if it would break.

"Nay, little one. Listen to it. _Peace_ is in that call."

Frodo felt peacefulness settle in his heart, and the Ring's whispers vanished into thin air. The sun sets. Both looked into the West.


	6. Epilogue

Galadriel wept on the night of April 7th, 3019.

She struggled to resist the urge to take Nenya off her finger as the Ring's cry rose to a scream, the agony of it making her graceful gait falter for a second. The misery, the venom, the vengeance...

She wished she was enough for it to stop. She wished she could stop the pain that the Ring forced out– It's resistance, stubbornness...

"Are you in need of assistance, milady?"

* * *

Samwise Gamgee wept on the morning of April 8th, 3019.

April 7th was a night full of worry and anxiety. Legolas came back with a limp form in his arms, and Sam remembered how Frodo looked exactly like that in Cirith Ungol, as the Elf placed the Hobbit on the bed and left to call for Aragorn. They had tended to him. They had done all they could. Frodo never woke. Sickness took hold of his small body, and he lay there, trembling and crying for the rest of the night, whispering about the Ring. Sam stayed.

Dawn approached. The Sun came, and with it came light, and with light came hope, as Sam caught the flicker on Frodo's eyelids and his heart skipped a beat.

He looked so close to death, so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that night. His skin paled even more, his lips tinged with blue. But now his eyes opened. Sam's heart bursted, and so does his tears.

Frodo looked at him— _his_ Frodo, who came back to his battered but true form, and Sam felt dismayed by how Frodo still looked small and vulnerable, but nevertheless he cried and pulled him to his arms, whispering words of comfort and love.

* * *

Frodo Baggins returned on the morning of April 8th, 3019. Merry saw him being enveloped on Sam's sturdy arms, weeping with happiness.

They stood tall, after. They were flushed with embarrassment, so unused to the attention and the praises, and he and Pippin were the ones who yelled the loudest. Their voices were drowned by the thousands of voices around them, but they knew that he heard them, had picked up their voices from the crowd and heard Merry's heart soar as well, with the way Frodo's teary eyes lingered on them.

* * *

"I never knew I would see you as a child, dear cousin."

"Oh, do shut up, Merry."

"Wait, no! I was serious." A stone rolled away from where it once rested as one Hobbit feet kicked it. "Now I regret not spending enough time with little Frodo."

"Mind you, I was aware of the things you've done. Might I say that you look quite stupid trying to cheer up a child? Little me felt more scared than amused."

Their laughter rang out.

* * *

_"The water...plant the image in your mind, little one. Círdan the Shipwright would come forth to greet us. I had never seen him myself, but my father used to tell stories about him— _he was very tall, and his beard was long, and he was grey and old, save that his eyes were keen as stars_, he would say. There would be a white ship floating there in the water, and the water would sparkle as the sun sets."_

_"What is there to see? What is there to sail for, Leg'las?"_

_"Peace."_

* * *

"Would you answer the call?"

Frodo's smile reached his eyes for the first time, Legolas noticed. The Evenstar now lay upon his chest, his maimed fingers clutching it. Finally turning to him, he said, "I would. But perhaps it is not my time just yet."

The light around Frodo took his breath away, if he was to be honest. His friend looks so...ethereal, so bright, his whole being glowing with radiance. Looking away, he turned towards where the Sun sets, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God I hope this doesn't look too rushed— I swear I didn't rush it!! >_<
> 
> But just in case any of you are a lil bit confused, here's what happened:
> 
> April 7th, 3019: Legolas returned with an unconscious Frodo, Sam frets, and Galadriel tried to battle the Ring and It's final effort to kill Frodo (since she could feel It through Nenya). Gandalf and Elrond came to assist.  
April 8th, 3019: Frodo came back to his true form by the three Wisest since it's safe enough for him to be free again. In noon, the Ring-bearers were honored in Ithilien. Legolas and Frodo watched the sunset for the last time until they finally began their journey back and talked about the West.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this fanfic and giving Kudos!! It means a lot to me. ^^


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